


one track mind, one track heart

by cryoreal



Series: Drunk in Love [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drunkenness, Fluff, good guy Jon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-27
Updated: 2017-09-27
Packaged: 2019-01-06 04:49:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12204189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cryoreal/pseuds/cryoreal
Summary: Sansa gets flat drunk at a house party and calls Jon to pick her up.





	one track mind, one track heart

**Author's Note:**

> Short but sweet. Happy reading!

Sansa flopped down on a bed of the greenest grass she had ever seen, her hair falling around her face as she dug in her bra for her phone. She hummed to herself quietly as she pulled it out, needing both hands to steady it in front of her face as she squinted at the screen.

It was fully dark outside, but it was bright as noon here. The Tyrells had thrown the biggest, ritziest college party of the year, and every square inch was bright with fairy lights, tiki torches, and various flickers from the strobe lights that flew into the front yard at random. 

Sansa scrolled through her contacts list, frowning slightly as she picked out strands of grass next to her feet. It was prickly but soft, manicured to a uniform inch and a half, and she could feel it poking into her thighs as she rubbed her legs on the ground. 

Her parents lived several hours away, so no go on that. Robb was out at some orchestra event with his fiancee, so he was probably sleeping it off at this point. Arya was on the West Coast at the college of her dreams, so there was no way she could pick Sansa’s ass up off the ground in Connecticut. 

She almost threw her phone when she came across the entry for her ex Joffrey, which she thought she had deleted long ago, but paused when she saw the next name. _Jon. Perfect!_

Holding her phone to her ear with one hand, she used the other to stroke the lawn gently, kicking her feet against it. 

His voice was gruff when he finally answered on the last ring. “Sansa?”

“Hi, Jon!” she sang into the phone. “Are you busy?” 

“Sansa, it’s like three in the morning.” She heard rustling on the other end, and then a half cough. “Are you okay?” 

“Of _course_ I’m okay, silly!” she giggled. “Are you busy?” 

“You already asked me that, but no, I’m not really busy.” 

“Can you come pick me up?” She could feel her bottom lip sticking out a little, and she sucked it in, feeling it between her teeth. “I’m at the Tyrell’s.” 

“Jesus christ,” he muttered into the line, and then she heard more rustling. “Give me like ten minutes, I’ll be there.”

“Thank you, Jon!” she chirped, drawing her knees up to her chest. “I’m out on the front lawn, you can’t miss me. My dress is silver, but I probably won’t have my shoes on anymore.” 

“Okay, I’ll be there soon. Bye, Sans.” She heard the phone beep as the call ended, and she tucked it back into her dress, squirming until she was laying on her back.

If she relaxed her eyes just right, she could almost see the stars past all the twinkly little lights in the trees. She tucked her knees together carefully, reaching down until she could reach her shoes to work them off her feet. She had worn heels that were much too tall, at Margaery’s insistence, but Jon wouldn’t mind if she was barefoot in his car. 

She didn’t notice he had pulled into the driveway until he appeared right in her line of sight, his face directly over hers. 

“Hi, Jon!” She sat up, carefully tucking her dress underneath her as she shifted around. “How was your drive?” 

“C’mon, Sans, get up.” 

It took some maneuvering, but he eventually hauled her to her feet with his hands under her arms, brushing her sides as she wobbled her way to his car. 

She had finally settled into the passenger seat, hands tucked under her thighs, when she gasped. “Jon! My shoes!” 

She had begun to struggle her way out of the car when Jon put both hands on her shoulders, gentle but firm. “I’ll get your shoes, Sansa, just stay in the car.” 

“Okay!” She put her hand over his on her shoulder, grinning up at him. “You’re so nice.” 

“Just stay put.” She thought she heard him mumble something about “those fucking Tyrells” before he shut her door with a disturbing clang. 

The car was older than she remembered, the upholstery ripped and torn in places, faded in all the others. The windows were even _crank windows_ , for God’s sake. 

When he finally opened his door, dropping her strappy metallic pumps in her lap, she thought he had been gone an eternity. “Jon, I need you to take me home,” she reminded him, tossing the shoes on the floor near her feet. 

“What else would I be doing?” He raked one hand through his hair while the other started his car. 

“Stealing me away and keeping me hostage until my father pays you some unsightly amount of money,” she said cheerfully. 

“You are way too drunk for this,” he muttered, pulling into the street so slowly she thought she was seeing things in slow motion. 

“Jon, gooooo.” 

“I _am_ going, Sansa.” 

“You drive like a dying turtle, Jon,” she moaned. “I’ll never make it home!” 

“We’re already almost there,” he pointed out, and she was surprised to see her apartment complex on the next corner. 

“Jon Snow, did you put me through some sort of time warp to get me home so quickly??” She placed a hand on her heart in faux outrage, but left it there when she noticed how cool it felt against the skin on her chest.

“You live about three minutes away from the Tyrells, Sansa. You could have walked home.” 

“It’s so much longer than three minutes. It took me like fifteen to get here, I’ll have you know.” 

“Because you changed your shoes ten times,” he grumbled, but there was a grin playing around the corners of his lips. 

“I only changed them like five times today, Jon.” She pouted at him as the car rolled to a stop in the parking lot of her building. 

“Come on, princess, let’s get you upstairs.” 

Jon was out of the car and opening her door before she could even unlace her legs in his front seat. “You are so fast, did you know that?”

He laughed then. “No, Sansa, you’re just really drunk.”

“Don’t forget my shoes,” she whispered as he slung her arm over his shoulder. He smelled woodsy and fresh, like he had showered recently, and she couldn’t help herself from nuzzling into his shirt and sniffing him deeply. 

“Got them right here.” He shook her shoes at her, holding them by the ankle straps as she stumbled to the door. 

“You’re so nice to me,” she mumbled as they reached the door, and she turned to pat him on the chest with her free hand. “Why did you come pick me up?”

“Because you asked me to.” His face was so close, and his lips looked softer than any she’d seen before. 

“Did I say thank you yet?”

“You didn’t.” His voice was husky and low, and the hand around her back was rubbing smooth circles on her skin. 

“Thank you,” she whispered breathlessly, their faces only an inch apart. She wanted to kiss him then, she realized, drawn in by the smoke and pine on his skin, but he abruptly pulled away and pushed the door to her building open. 

“Let’s get you to bed, princess.”

She nearly fell three times as she made it up the stairs, but Jon caught her at every stumble and she smiled gratefully at him. Some of the haze was fading from her mind, but she still saw stars when she turned too quickly. 

She had to fish in her bra for her apartment key, and Jon looked away politely when she had to reach fully into the bottom of the cup to find where it had slid. “Are you scared of a boob?” She giggled at him, watching his next flush a dark red. 

“No, I was… I was just…” he sputtered, and she knocked a clumsy elbow into his side. 

“Calm down, Jon. I’m _teasing_ you.” 

He helped her through her apartment until she reached her bedroom, collapsing on her bed with a loud huff. 

She vaguely heard him say, “I’ll be right back,” before he was next to her again. She heard him setting a few things on her nightstand before kneeling next to her bed. 

“I’m gonna go home now, okay?”

“Okay, Jon,” she whispered, half asleep already. He pressed a soft kiss to the top of her forehead and her eyes fluttered shut happily. 

The next morning, she woke up with a pounding headache to see two ibuprofen and a bottle of water next to her, along with a post-it note. 

_Drink the entire bottle or you’ll regret it later. Call me if you’d like to get breakfast to ward off your hangover._

Jon had scrawled his name messily below that, and she grinned, pressing the note to her chest. After downing the entire bottle with her pills, she picked up her phone and dialed.

“Jon? It’s me. How do you feel about IHOP?”


End file.
